LSF2 Prelude to Darkness
by GrimRabbit
Summary: LSF Revan has returned and is dealing with the aftermath of KOTOR1 and 2. Second story in the arc.


**Prelude to Darkness**

**Chapter One**

I think one of my favorite things to do was to watch. To be specific, I like to watch people. I'm currently watching Jolee Bindo lead a class of my dark Jedi in Dantoine's sunny little atrium. Jolee, who had left the order because it forgave him, who practiced the ways of a middleman, stood in front of a class of people wronged by the Jedi and sang its praises. I had asked him why once. He said that there was a need for forgiveness in the galaxy. He could watch the Jedi Order suffer, but he could not watch it die.

"But why!" came a strung out cry from a woman still wearing too much black to be considered traditional. I hadn't been paying attention to the conversation but I could almost figure the main issue. Tieriana had worshipped me as Darth Revan, not because she wanted a piece of the galaxy. Not because I fed her lies of power and prestige. But because I took her from an abusive father that the Jedi Order had sent her back to when they discovered the rage in her.

"Because hate is not conductive," said another of the class, a new face to me. Tieriana raised one dark eyebrow, disdain crowding her face.

"Hate nearly destroyed the Republic. And hate saved it, too," she said. I wonder how often my dark children threw that in the face of the Jedi. That they saved their asses.

"Love, Tier. Love saved the Republic. You may have used hate for everyone and everything to fuel you, but you fought for the Republic because you loved it," I said, walking slowly toward Jolee.

"No, I fought for the Republic because I loved you, my Lord Revan," she said softly. I had yet to break them of calling me that. I wasn't sure I wanted too. It set them apart, gave them pride. She caught her second wind and called out, "But the Jedi counsel against love too."

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" I asked. She blushed scarlet but nodded anyways. "And when you broke up with him…?" I prompted. She gave a pleased, guilty little grin.

"I broke his kneecaps, the cheating bastard."

"Love, Tieriana, in all its forms, can lead to hate."

"But you're married," she said. I smiled almost gently. Mine always turned to me as the pinnacle of all a Jedi, a person, should be and I know I am far from pristine.

"Yes, and if he is killed the galaxy will tremble at my fury. Any woman who attempts to take him from me will face my tightly controlled rage. There is a danger in it," I said, speaking only the truth when it came to my flock.

"So, what, only an androgynous love is okay? Love your fellow man, love the Jedi Order, love the Republic?" Tricky question, that one, bless her quick thinking mind. I sacrificed friends for the Republic for the last 15-20 years of my life. I took people whose only crime was loving me, being devoted to me, and forced them to do terrible acts in the name of saving the Republic. All those dead Jedi, dark and light, all those dead soldiers flitted before my view. Yes, I was beginning to be bitter towards the Republic for all that I gave in its name.

"Such a love can turn to hate, as well. Think, children, of Atris, who loved the Jedi Order more than she loved the Republic. Would you sacrifice one for the other? Would your thinking be drawn from the greater good?" Yes, the example was a little less close to home and yes, I knew it was cowardly.

"I refuse to believe you are wrong. A basic criminological theory is that people turn from crime based on not wanting to disappoint their family, friends, society. How are we different from normal people? The stakes are just higher," Tieriana said. She had stumbled upon my biggest recrimination of the Jedi Order.

"Because the stakes are higher, Tier, any emotion should be watched. The opposite of hate is not love, but apathy. Love and hate are two sides of one coin."

"But to avoid all emotion, all the experiences of life out of a fear of turning to the darkside… isn't really living."

"And is born out of fear. And can lead to bitterness." She looked at me to say more but I merely shrugged.

"That's demented."

"Precisely."

**Chapter Two**

He was staring at me. I wasn't sure why, but I figured I'd just let him stare and wait until he told me. Patience is the greatest virtue a person can have. "You really are beautiful," he said, still watching me with those russet brown eyes.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Onasi," I said, twining my arms around his neck. He laughed and shook his head.

"You're in an odd mood today. Not that I'm complaining," he said, smoothing those glorious, battle roughened hands along my waist.

"My horoscope told me to avoid serious thought today."

"What else did it tell you?" he whispered, nibbling at my ear.

"Not to refuse any offer."

"Well, in that case, why don't we practice some new horizontal grappling techniques, sans clothing?"

"Gee, Atton said that same thing earlier today," I whispered back, grinning when he pinched my side. "Well, Mr. Onasi. I'd love too. Of course, you have to promise not to tell your wife."

"I won't breathe a word of it to her," he teased back, hands already sliding into my tunic. Several hazy and sweaty hours later I was drifting in and out of a light sleep, tangled with my husband. I still catch myself over that word. Husband. Mine. Ownership I understand, I have a hyperdefined sense of it. But owning and belonging to in one breath. That was a new one to me.

"My husband," a voice began, not mine, not me. I must have been dreaming again. I do not dream as normal people dream. Everything is realistic, waking, and almost logical. But such dreams are not the norm; they separate prophecy and past from the unconscious ramblings of a fallen emperor. So, was this prophecy or past?

"Tarred… let's run. The Exchange can't follow us everywhere. Pikek isn't the smartest Quarren on the block."

"Pikek has too many bounty hunters on his payroll. You and I both know that. But… he is heavily into the slave trade." I could see the woman now, tall, willowy, blond, emerald eyed. Her fair skin paled.

"Not you, Selia. The brat," Tarred said, running a hand through shorn black hair. I could see his eyes now, a familiar faded blue. Who were these people? I must have killed them on some random world. Were they Tieriana's parents? "Pikek has a penchant for young flesh." Oh, I'm sure I must have killed them. I hate pedophiles and I hate bad parents. Heaven knows my flock has much been the victim of one or the other. Such ugliness, such horror, fraught throughout the galaxy, the Republic. It's a wonder I didn't heed Dy'ean's dark call, didn't allow myself to be seduced by an evil that didn't pretend to be anything else.

"Revan? Revan…" that was Carth's voice, and his hand on my shoulder. I blinked up at him, frowning. "You were whimpering in your sleep."

"That's odd. The dream wasn't that kind. The people in it were fragile, I was sure I killed them without much effort," I muttered. He gave me a long suffering smile, almost used to me talking about slaughtering innocents now as other people would speak of the conversations they had. It really wasn't fair to him, but I was beginning to realize it wasn't really all that fair to me, either. "Do you have family?" I asked, dropping my head back to his chest.

"Yea, my mom and my dad. I haven't talked to them in the longest time. My dad was a merchant, wealthy as sin. My mom's a cousin to one of the old royal house of Telos. They're not the most grounded of people, but they have good hearts. It's been forever since I've talked to them. I haven't talked to them since… since my wife died."

"We should invite them over for something. I'll go con an excuse to hold a party out of Jolee," I said, not really sure why it was so important to meet his parents. He chuckled.

"It won't be hard to convince them to come. They're probably curious about the great Revan…. Oh, shit. I'm a horrible son. I forgot to tell them that Dustil is alive and well. Well, that's one way to get them to come to Dantooine." _You're a horrible daughter_, the dream whispered at me. _Monster._ I ignored it.

"Wow… you do suck as a son. Not that bad as a father, though." I like Dustil. He's quick minded, honest, and he's as mine as his father is. He feels guilty that I am his idol, past and present. I feel guilty that I enjoy being his idol. I mean, I am supposed to be the wicked stepmom, trying to take the place of his martyred mother. Instead I'm someone different to him, the great, estimable Revan.

"What about your parents, Revan?" he asked, his voice soft. I frowned and shrugged. "I thought you remembered everything."

"I remember being the Sith Lord. I remember the Mandalorian wars. I remember some of my Jedi training. It's all I needed to remember." I thought that had been obvious. He shook his head.

"You scare me sometimes. You're not curious about your family?"

"Carth, you know the Jedi Order discourages contact with families. It's probably better I don't remember some teary goodbye, combined with a few years of angsty missing them."

"Yea… you definitely do scare me. Rev, family is a source of pride and love. I'm sure your parents are out there missing you, proud of their little girl." I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Yea, I'm sure they're real proud of their brutal Sith Lord daughter."

"Revan! The galaxy knows better now. The tale of that soul-sucking, mind-raping Sith Dy'ean has come to light, as well as why you gave in and what it accomplished. You punish yourself needlessly."

"Carth, I killed countless innocents, agreed, as well as saving countless more. But nothing makes killing innocent people right and nothing changes that I did it."

"Revan…" he said reproachfully. Then he kissed me because he couldn't argue with my logic however much he wanted to.

**Chapter Three**

"Party. Glitzy. Big." I steepled my hands in front of me and stared straight at Jolee. Beside him, the Disciple, who still remains nameless but now goes but the nickname Jay, smiled.

"We are planning a ceremony open to a select amount of the public where several of the order will obtain a Master's rank, myself included." Which was stupid. The man almost singlehandedly rebuilt the Jedi Order and is only now getting the rank he deserved. Are you more capable one day than you are the previous when you go from Padawan to Knight to Master? No, you just sound more prestigious. Jay had the ear of the dead masters to rely on for guidance. I know they spoke to him, I know it. I have heard Vrook in his voice, Vandar. I have heard him say pithy little sayings that they are known for. And he never could have done that before. So why are they only now granting the man the rank of Master? Because Vrook didn't trust anyone, I taught him that, and he wanted to make sure Jay would wait until they said he was ready.

"Perfect, I'll shanghai Bastila for some of the decorations; let Mission go wild on the drinks. I have recently discovered Juhani likes cooking, and Mira with her. Juhani is better at it. I'll nab them too."

"Bastila may be a little busy…" he began. Oh, dear God, no. Master Bastila? I love her, I do. She is the epitome of all our Order should strive for, all it does strive for. But Bastila's soul is a long way from peace. She only recently visited her mother in the hospital. She still fears her own arrogance, still fears wanting the title. Whoever told her that wanting was bad should be punched. There is nothing wrong with wanting something if you are willing to work for it. She plagues herself with doubts needlessly. She is the most honorable, lightsided, stodgiest person I have ever met. Vrook included. She will look at this gift of being given in name what she has been for so long with doubt, more doubt. I hope it will fade as the title becomes more worn.

"Alright, I'll do the decorations."

"You may be a little busy as well," Jolee said, watching me as though he knew what I would do. He and I have gone a long way from snake riddles, but I doubt he knows me that well. I gave them a gracious bow of my head, internally rolling my eyes. "Vrook suggested it," he said, because he knows I put more faith in Vrook. I know this had to have been like pulling teeth for him, he doesn't like to be wrong.

It was, of course, politically motivated. The vast majority of the students, of the current Jedi were mine. To keep them was to keep me and to keep me was to make me happy. It was blindly simple. "Vrook also says to tell you this isn't politically motivated." Damn. Vrook knows me oh too well. I wasn't sure I believed him, but I nodded again. What? Has regular sex mellowed me enough to be the pithy Jedi Master? The Jedi Order was just one more institution that judged me worthy when I didn't find myself worthy.

All these self doubts and guilt were getting annoying. Normally, I didn't allow them to plague me but I think a kinder part of me needed to feel bad. Demented, true. I was going to have to just get over it soon. I headed back to my plush little Master's quarters that had been mine since I returned to Dantooine. Carth was there, watching Dustil meditate in my curtained off tranquility room. His eyes were full of pride and love and regret.

It was stupid to wonder, but I wondered if anyone had ever looked at me like that. _What have you done! You're a monster, Revan, a monster!_ "What?" Carth asked, just noticing me. I must have been muttering. I shook my head, remaining quiet. Bastila burst in behind me, wrapping her arms around me with a grin a mile wide on her face. It was almost sad to know that she'd berate herself for being happy later on. "Okay, ladies, what am I missing?"

"Revan and I are going to become named Masters at some upcoming fundraising gala." The fundraising part escaped me, but I figured it was for Telos' restoration. The naming would be in private, between those being named, those already named, and the spirits of the dead.

"Congratulations. I mean that from the bottom of my heart," he said, grinning now. He was happy for me. I wasn't sure I understood it. "You're not happy becoming a Master?"

"I'm not sure I care. I stopped defining myself by the Jedi Order's rules long ago," I said, trying to explain the curious lack of feeling towards the news. Bastila squeezed me in her hug before letting go.

"You are one of the best things to happen to the Order, Revan. And you know you are worthy of the title. And maybe this will make you start caring about the Jedi Order again, hm?" she said, my bad mood having no effect on her exuberance at all. I shrugged. I think I stopped loving the Jedi Order when they left the Republic to be slaughtered by the Mandalorians, when they chose their lightness over the good of the Republic. I knew they would, but it doesn't stop me from despising the reaction.

"Oh! Wear a blue robe," she began. Was Bastila about to discuss fashion with me? Agreed, she looked to it more than I did, but I think we both fell short of trendy. "Something to make your eyes look like hurrikaine crystals, accentuate that pale, harvest wheat colored hair of yours." I snorted, running a hand through my short, yellow spikes. Genetics hated me enough that no matter what length my hair was, it would not lay straight. And there wasn't enough gel in the galaxy to make it cooperate. Not to mention, of course, that my eyes were a pale medium blue, like faded jeans. There was nothing startling about them other than the navy ring around the edge, and they certainly did not look like hurrikaine crystals. Ever.

"I like grey. Maybe something light… maybe something with a blue tinge," I said, and she narrowed those spectacular grey eyes at me. It occurred to me that she was more than just lovely, with her flawless gold skin and her thick mane of smooth, chocolate colored hair. She was tall but full bodied, graceful. I almost felt like a country cousin beside her with my wiry body, shorn hair, pale skin, and average eyes. Almost. If I had more a care for such things. If I hadn't once had this galaxy on its knees.

"Well, you're going to have to ditch the robes for the party anyways. Let Mira help you choose what to wear," he said, almost hopeful. I made a face. I love Mira, but there would be people bleeding before I squeeze into tight leather and halter tops. He laughed at my expression and shook his head. "Then Bastila will choose. And not tell you until the day of. You have a tendency to veto if you can."

"That's probably for the best." I had noticed that about myself too. I favor the more concealing robes, the darker ones. It's not insecurity on my part so much as comfort. Maybe even a wish for anonymity. I shrugged and headed towards the link to get Mira, Juhani, and Mission started on the planning stages.

**Chapter Four**

The naming went well. The current masters, the to be masters, the dead masters. No one really talked to me. I think I was afraid Vrook and I'd say something to have him haunt me for the rest of my life. Which he was probably going to do anyways. Iew, Vrook has seen me in the shower. I banished that thought before it even began as I headed back towards my rooms to change into whatever concoction Bastila had dreamt up. She came with me to help, solemn now but still exhilarated. "Carth's eyes are going to drop right out when he sees you in this," she said. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I never figured this role for you, Bastila. You seem almost… girly." She shrugged.

"I am living my life, Revan, instead of stalking on the sidelines of it."

"Well spoken." I hoped it was true. Bastila Shan deserved whatever happiness she could find. Of course, I was probably going to behead her before she found any with what she handed me to get dressed in. "You're kidding."

"Stop grousing and hurry it up," she snapped, grabbing her own dress and heading towards another room. I sighed and did as told. It wasn't that bad, really. The neckline was a little low for my taste, the bodice a little too snug. Overall it seemed sheer to me, a shimmery dark blue. It was almost as though someone had thrown glitter on it because small points of light winked with every shift of light.

"Great, I'm the night sky." She walked back in wearing bronze in a sleek column, with a less daring neckline and a less snug bodice. I glared and she shrugged. We took a few moments more, grabbing the necessary jewelry, slapping on makeup. It was so… ordinary and girly. I had not been ordinary in a very long time.

Dantooine's main assembly hall was packed with well dressed men and women. I think I looked right past Carth twice before I finally recognized him. His shirt was a dark blue of Arkanian silk, several buttons undone. His slacks were black, pressed, and well fitting. I was walking toward him without even knowing it, needing to feel if the silk was as soft as it looked, if it was warmed by his skin. He turned and smiled at me. It never failed to melt a part of me, to amaze me that he was mine. My husband. _My husband!_ I shoved away any unpleasant thoughts. I gave them enough free reign. I wanted tonight for me and him.

I kissed him briefly, my hand running along his arm. Yes, the silk was as soft as it looked and yes, it was warm from him. "So is this lovely lady the one who finally snagged you, Carth?" the voice exuded sex and belonged to a gorgeous raven haired woman.

"Vila. It's been a long time. We served together in the Sith wars," he said the last in explanation to me. She smiled back at me, placing one long nailed hand on Carth's arm. I didn't even need to ask, the story was plain on her face. She had wanted him, pursued him, and was turned down by him before he was even ready to start anew.

"It was lovely to see you again, Carth. We should do lunch some time before I leave. I'll call," she said, sauntering off.

"See, her head is still on her shoulders. I'm not evil. That proves it," I joked. He grinned nudged me with one arm.

"Behave yourself. You have yet to meet my parents."

"Carth. You're not… nervous?"

"If you knew them, you'd be nervous too," he said, shaking his head.

"Now, that's not nice of you to say, but it's ok. I know what you meant. You meant, if you knew her, you'd be nervous too." We turned to see an older man with Carth's same fall colored eyes. Beside him was a grey haired woman, still lovely despite the lines beginning to creep across her face.

"Nice, Dane, very nice. Now then, young lady, tell us what prep school you attended," she began, her voice militant and showing no signs of age.

"Prep school?"

"You know, not much is well known about you. You're family, pedigree, schooling. Where is your family from?"

"We never stayed in one spot too long. Hell, I was born on Nar'Shaddaa, smugglers' moon." His mother frowned in confusion and my eyes widened. It was true. I didn't know that before. I'll have to visit Nar'Shaddaa.

"You were the daughter of a smuggler?"

"That's one thing you could have called him," I said. Other words came to mind. Murderer. Mercenary. Scum. I pressed a hand to my now aching forehead.

"Mom," Carth began. There was anger in his voice, tightly controlled. His father's smile said that this debate was not new, meant nothing.

"I'm sorry, dear. Things were different in my age. I've come a long way past it. Besides, a girl can hope," she said, apology in her voice. I hear him sigh beside me, before he stiffened.

"Headache?" he asked. No, I'm holding my hand to my head because I think it looks cool. By nature, humans sometimes ask the dumbest questions. I staggered away from him, heading towards the refreshment tables. I need something to drink. He smothered a curse and followed, catching my arm half way there. I was staring into his fall colored eyes when I saw her in my peripheral.

She was wearing skintight red, a dress that showed her lush curves to perfection. Her hair was spun gold, hanging free to her waist, looking like fine silk. Even though she was half turned from me I could see those startling emerald eyes burning like fire. The world fell away from me, shifted, repainted itself in a way I was long since familiar with. Past or prophecy. The room was small, run down, cheap. It smelled harshly of vomit, urine, and blood. She was still there, bending over me, her gorgeous hair disheveled, her elegant face pale. She was all the more beautiful for it, because it was a fragile beauty.

"That was… amazing," she said, smiling brightly.

"No, it wasn't, Selia," the man with the shorn black hair snapped. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble we're in now because of that brat?" He stalked toward her, towards me. He backhanded me with a meaty hand that had my dream vision going spotty. Which made no sense. I was Revan, the Dark Lord, Jedi Master, dream prophet, fallen emperor. How could such a frail creature strike me? How could it hurt enough to make my vision go?

The answer was, of course, that I was frail. That I was a child and these were my parents. I would have figured it out sooner if I hadn't been denying it. I saw myself look down. I couldn't have been much older than six, covered in dirty clothing, covered in blood. "But Pikek is dead, Tarred. He can't collect on the shipment that that Rodian slime stole from you. Our debts are settled," Selia insisted. Something shattered to the left of me. I didn't so much as flinch.

"He was working for the exchange, Selia. They will come looking for us. If I didn't know better I'd think the brat was trying to get me killed…. Aren't you? Answer me!" he shouted. I shook my head, not meeting his eyes, not looking up. "Where's the knife? Where did you hide it?" he demanded.

"I… I lost it," my child's voice stammered. That was a lie, though. I could feel it like a comforting weight in my back pocket. He hit me again, bundling one hand in my already torn jacket to keep me from squirming as he searched for the knife. Once he had it, he jerked me around to face him.

"You're a horrible liar," he said. Don't worry, I get better at it. His eyes were a faded blue, my eyes. His short hair stood in spikes, the dark version of my own. Genetics had seen to it that I had his jutting jaw, straight nose, thin eyebrows. Had seen to it that I could not look into the mirror and not see my father staring back at me. He pushed me back with a curse and took to pacing the room. He jumped at a knock at the door. I couldn't hear the conversation that took place but he was grinning when he stepped back. "That was his second, Gera. He thanked me for dispatching Pikek and considers the debt nullified."

Selia ran to him, enfolded him in her arms, laughing and crying all at once. From over her shoulder I saw him glare at me. It's still a wonder to me why people who hate children breed. I mean, what must they have thought when they learned my mother was pregnant with me? It was not joy. With all the contraceptive options available, with all the other options, why actually have offspring? Stupidity? Curiosity? I was still shaking my head over it when the scene shifted subtly.

It was dark now, night. I was sleeping on a couch with a ratty blanket, freezing and huddled, unable to sleep. It came as no surprise to me, watching him walk through the dim light, creeping toward me. He'd probably tell Selia in the morning that Gera had asked for it, or that I had killed myself. The knife in his hand glinted in the dim light, still stained from when I had used it on Pikek. "You're a horrible liar, brat, I know you're awake…. You tried to kill me, to have them retaliate." Yea, and you sold me to be molested for the next several years of my life, asshole. He tossed the knife on the table beside the couch and sat next to me.

"I'm still debating whether or not I want to strangle you to death or stab you. Do you have a preference?" Well, blades are quicker, cleaner in many aspects. He laid a hand on my shoulder in almost fatherly affection. I don't think I knew until that moment that he actually did enjoy hurting me. I didn't wait for what I knew would come next. I grabbed his knife, my knife, and jammed it in his throat. It was quick, the knife almost seemed to jump to my hand, and he didn't see it coming. He crashed backward, shattering the dirty glass coffee table.

The lights snapped on and I saw Selia in the doorway to their bedroom staring at him, at me. For the first time in my life I saw rage in those lovely green eyes. "What have you done! You're a monster, Revan, a monster! You killed you own father. You're a horrible daughter, Revan. Monster."

It was Republic soldiers that carted away his dead body and I was in the office of a city official, in shock, shaking. He was asking me why I murdered him, what he had done. I didn't say a word, just kept staring forward. "Magistrate, the mother wishes to talk to you. Why don't you let me take over here?" asked a nameless Republic shoulder. The city official left, aiming one last glare at me. I ignored it.

"Here, Honey, take this," she said, shoving a cup into my hands. I drank and found it to be hot chocolate. I expected coffee, someone grown up to go with the grown up murder charge hanging around my neck. "My name is Pria. Pria Onasi. I'll talk to the Magistrate. Let him know it was self defense. Heaven knows you have enough scars and bruises that no one will ask twice. We'll get you put into foster care. Would you like that?"

No, I'd like to stay with the mother who thinks I am a monster. "Thanks," I mumbled. The door burst in behind Pria and a wild eyed man stood there, robed, ruggedly blond.

"Monster, Monster," he kept repeating. Pria stood calmly and decked him. Strangely, it seemed to calm the man. He ran his shaking hands over his stubbled face and blew out a breath. "She is strong in the Force. Strong enough that I was clear on the other side of the planet and felt…" he trailed off, his eyes going distant. "I felt the hilt of the knife, I smelled the blood…." Felt the thrill of his death, the mad joy at it?

"That's enough. Whether or not she decides to go into the Jedi Order is something that can be addressed at another time. This, now, isn't doing her or you any good." The man nodded and slowly left the office. Pria turned back to me, apologetic smile in place. "Sorry about that. You really should give his offer careful consideration. The Jedi are a great force in the galaxy, help so many people. And they're usually a lot calmer, more in control." I nodded, because I wouldn't go back to my mother and didn't want to go into foster care. I could still see the horror on her face.

**Chapter Five**

I could still see the horror on her face. The vibrant red of her dress made her seem even paler, making the subtle, well placed makeup stand out. "Revan?" she whispered softly, walking toward me on ice pick heals like some graceful gazelle. I waited until she was close enough then I decked her, knocking her on her pretty ass. I was almost grateful I was unarmed, certain I would have put my lightsaber through one of those stunning eyes. Thunder rolled through the hall, making the lights flicker.

"You whore! You let him beat me, abuse me, sell me to Pikek, and have the audacity to call _me_ a monster!" Lightning flashed in the distance. I spun on a heel and stormed out of the banquet hall, leaving her bleeding on the floor. I wasn't sure where I was going, what I wanted to do. No, that wasn't right. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to grab a weapon and find her.

I wandered into one of the larger meditation rooms, by providence or accident, I wasn't sure. Tieriana was there, trying to center herself. She looked up when I entered, and stood when she saw my face. I was positive the Dark Lord's rage was painted across it. "My Lord Revan, what has happened?"

"I… I remember my family, I don't…. Why was I even welcomed into the order and not cast out like you, my dark Jedi?"

Something sad crept into Tieriana's eyes and she slowly walked towards me. "Because you were too powerful to turn aside, Lord Revan…. What is it you remember?"

"My father… and my mother… and I killed him." I wasn't making sense. Describing my childhood seemed a task beyond my mind right now.

"My father beat and raped me on a regular basis," Tieriana began. "You too?" she asked. I could barely bring myself to nod. "You killed your father?" Another nod. "You also killed mine. We can't escape what's happened, but we can make better futures. That's what you do. You protect the innocent, make better futures for people. It counts when protecting the innocent is you, too."

I ran a hand through my nonexistent hair and tried to calm my spinning thoughts. "If it makes you feel better, we can go on a killing spree," she offered lightheartedly. I chuckled, shaking my head. Tieriana was staring at me like this galaxy was not good enough for me, like she saw something in me that I didn't. I heard his footsteps before I saw him in the doorway. He asked no questions, said nothing, just enfolded me in his arms, wrapping me in that warm, silk shirt.

"You really know how to liven up a party, Revan…. I love you. Nothing you say, nothing you've done, can change that," he whispered the last into my hair. He said it, and I knew it was true, and I had known this for the longest time, but I still was amazed at it. Amazed at him. I was caught wondering if he knew how absolutely priceless he was. "Come, you need rest." He began leading me toward our rooms and I almost smiled. I'm sure he was thinking I was emotionally exhausted, needing of sleep. But there were so much more interesting things that could be done in a bed and I need him more than sleep right now. I'll surprise him when we get there.

**Chapter Six**

I was back to watching again, in the back of that sunny little atrium on Dantooine where Jolee Bindo held class. Tieriana stood and slammed shut a book, annoyance painted across her features. "This is crap. I miss the Sith Academy. We got to beat things up more often," she said, glaring at Jolee.

"I was just about to call the study session over and begin the sparring…" he began, smiling patiently. "If you wish, you can wait here while the rest of us do so."

"No, thanks. Action, please, my Sith sensibilities are cramped at all this bookwork."

"Actually, Tieriana, I'm sure it's far more the result of your age, rather than your 'Sith sensibilities.' If you stop thinking of yourself as Sith you may find that you have more in common with your fellow Jedi than you originally thought possible."

"But they're weak pacifists."

"A hypothetical, Tieriana. Someone has harmed you. You can easily retaliate. You can easily dispatch them. Is it truly stronger to kill them than it is to leave them be, to forgive them?"

She opened her mouth to respond then closed it. "Yes, it is stronger," she finally answered obstinately.

"Vrook would have torn you apart with that one, child," I began. Vrook had torn me apart with that one, child. "The Jedi Order is as much for the necessity of violence as the Sith are. But look closely at his hypothetical. Easy retaliation, easy kill. He is not talking about backing down when the fight is uncertain. He is not questioning your courage. He is questioning whether the Jedi you are is strong enough to let the slights of weaker men pass. There are many people in the galaxy who hate the Jedi. Are you strong enough to still help them despite their hate?"

It was almost disconcerting to watch the class bob their heads in the quick furiousness to write what I had said. Tieriana remained staring at me. A slow smile spread across her face. "Let's find out, shall we?"


End file.
